


Gentle Curiosity

by wingdingtypes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Autistic Edward Nygma, Character Study, Gen, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Pining, Self-Worth Issues, Trans Oswald Cobblepot, oswald is just snooping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingdingtypes/pseuds/wingdingtypes
Summary: Edward leaves an injured Oswald to rest in his apartment while he goes to work. Oswald decides to learn more about his saviour thought some harmless snooping
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	Gentle Curiosity

The door was locked with several clasps latches and bolts, that was standard protocol for Gotham. But some of the contraptions looked homemade and unnecessary, even to a paranoid person like Oswald. Locked or not, he knew he couldn't leave the apartment. His ribs and leg ached with every movement, collapsing several times from the pain. Fishes' mobsters wouldn't even need to kill him, the walk down the front steps would do it for them.

He resigned himself to investigating his imminent surrounding. He didn't bother trying to cover his tracks. Ed was devilishly smart and would notice. Hell, he was probably expecting it

The apartment was small, crammed with bits and pieces as if its' owner had picked up from the street. Excentric nicknacks and carnival memorabilia. The fridge resembled a chemist refrigerator, the cupboards were filled with cracked, mismatched plates and bowls. And judging by the coffee stains, scientific beakers were being used in place of cups. _Talk about taking work home with you_ , he mused, placing a glass back. The food in the fridge was organised in no way that Oswald could make out.  
Really, who puts the butter on the bottom shelf?

Several medication bottles were lined up in one particularly high up cupboard. He had to kneel on the counter to reach them. The labels were all worn off, so he didn't recognise any of them. Not for recreational use, he guessed. Poor bastard

Snooping through a broom closet that turned out to be a wardrobe, he ran his fingers through a rack of ties, all different colours and materials. Modest suits, shirts, jackets and pants all folded neatly in their labelled places, but dirty undershirts and socks were strewn all over the floor. Ed was obviously a man of routine who believed everything had a place, but recently hadn't had the time or interest in keeping up the practice.  
Just as he was about to shut the door, a glint of something reflected the fading orange sunlight. Limping over, he pushed aside a rack of jackets and pulled down a heavy moth-eaten sheet. Beneath it was a full-size mirror tucked away in the corner. Decorated with an ornately carved frame that had once been gold, the paint now faded and peeling. The mirror was horribly cracked.

_Covered up and broken, yet couldn't bring himself to throw it away._

_I know how that feels_ he thought numbly.  
Oswald caught his own reflection in an unshattered piece of glass. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead and his skin shone from sweat, making the freckles that he hated so much even more evident. Large dark circles like bruises hung under his eyes. Dressed in purple striped pajamas that hung off his thin frame. The binder he wore the only thing that fit properly. Yikes. He tossed the sheet at his reflection where it slithered to a pile at his feet. Oswald didn't care, not looking back and slamming the door firmly behind him.

A piano rested against the far wall, as if embarrassed by it's own existence. Trying to take up as little room as possible. Despite this, the keys were well worn and sheets of music were pinned to the stand. The thought of Nygma playing this on lazy afternoons, his slender fingers dancing over the keys. Touching lightly, leaving butterfly kisses on the keyboard. Singing too, as sweet the music swelled and filled the apartment. Suddenly feeling very warm, he moved on.

The window, despite its size and almost taking up a whole wall, didn't offer much of a view. Most of it was blocked by the back of a giant sign advertising the cinema located below his apartment. What you could see was the city's skyline, polluted with silver smoke. The building stood black; tall silhouettes against the setting sun. Mismatched and slouched among each other like crooked teeth.

His mother had once mistakenly called Gotham the "Big Crabapple" Although that fitted just fine. It was bitter and rotten to the core, but Oswald felt more at home here than anywhere else. Gotham ran in his blood

  
And with the toxicity levels of the water being what they were, it just might.

Only the cupboard and bathroom were separate from the main room. Content that there were no traps or concealed weapons around, Oswald settled back onto the apartments one bed, old springs creaking under his weight as he shifted he bad leg into a more comfortable position.  
The blankets on Edwards bed were heavier than most, almost specified designed to be so. Oswald had initially found it annoying but had warmed up to the idea, finding its pressure strangely calming. He would have to ask Edward about it later.

It was never quiet in Gotham, not really. There were always police sirens, dogs barking, people yelling, gunshots muffled from behind closed doors. But at the moment, he tuned it all out like a faint buzz of a radio stuck between two stations. The room was still. The strange room of a strange man, that made his heart flutter whenever their hands brushed. Oswald watched the dustmotes float lazily through the air. The giant neon sign that blocked half the view from the full-sized window flickered to life in the creeping darkness, casting an eerily green light across the room and darkening the shadows. Oswald didn't mind, settling deeper into the cushions.

He decided that he liked green.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this short dive into what I think Ed's apartment is like! I refuse to believe that Os didn't let curiosity get the better of him at Some Point


End file.
